


Meet the Big Man

by StreetSolo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Gen, God!Chuck - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Season 8 Finale, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StreetSolo/pseuds/StreetSolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean wakes up in a strange place, he has no idea where he is until he sees Chuck, who snaps his fingers and teleports them both to the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. That's right - Chuck's God, and he has some important information he wants Dean to know. But is Dean prepared to listen?</p><p>Set after the season 8 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Big Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Told you I had a one-shot coming your way!  
> Hope you enjoy it!! <3  
> \---

Dean's green eyes opened to find himself in a black room. At least he assumed it was black. He sat up and looked to his left, then his right. There was just darkness as far as the eye could see, but he didn't feel threatened by it. It felt like he just existed in space. He felt like he was standing on a floor, but it was black like the rest of the room, if it was even a room at all.

"Uh, hello?" Dean called out, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

"Ah, Dean." Chuck came out of the darkness, wearing an impeccable white suit. It looked like he was walking down a staircase, although Dean couldn't see any stairs. There didn't seem to be light emanating from anywhere, but yet he could see Chuck there, clear as day. He could make out every fleck of stubble on his cheeks to every wrinkle in his brow, creased by stress and time. “How are you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Dean demanded before he caught himself. “Wait wait wait, does this – does this mean that I’m-?”

“No, you’re not dead, Dean,” Chuck said with a quick smile. “Don’t worry, I just brought you here so that you and I could have a little chat.”

“A little chat?” Dean echoed. “Where are we anyway?”

Chuck frowned for a moment, as if confused, looking around him. “Oh, you don’t see what I see.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were standing in the middle of the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. 

Dean recognized it instantly, his eyes wide. “You- you mean-?”

“We have a few things to discuss, Dean,” Chuck responded, his eyes alight with humor.

“You’re – you’re God?” Dean could barely get the words out.

“Well, that’s what some people call me,” Chuck merely shrugged, as if this was neither here nor there to him. 

“Well what do I want to call you?” Dean mused. “Oh how about this, you big selfish dick?”

“Ouch,” Chuck flinched. “Dean-“

“We thought you were dead,” Dean yelled, unable to contain himself. “And here you were, just playing God the whole time? Look at everything you’ve done. You let Sam kill Lilith. You unleashed Lucifer and the Apocalypse onto the world – look at everything you did to us. You raised Hell on earth and you didn’t lift a finger to help us stop it. You let your prophets die, you let Metatron kick the angels out of heaven, and you didn’t even try to stop it, any of it. And Cas-“ Dean’s eyes glowed for a minute. “And Cas, you let him down so many times. He looked for you, he scoured the earth for you, and there you were, under his nose the whole time? He prayed to you, so many times he prayed, and he looked to you for, for guidance and you just abandoned him? Some shit father you are.” 

“I’m not expecting any thank yous,” Chuck said, although the humor had started to bleed out of his voice. “Dean, I know you don’t expect-“

“You let dad die!” Dean yelled. “And Sam, you just let him fall right into the pit. And Cas-“

“How many times have I brought Cas back?” Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows. Dean hesitated for a moment. “And you, Dean? What about you? How many times have I brought you back?”

Dean shook his head, barely able to contain his rage. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I didn’t ask for that-“

“I know you didn’t,” Chuck answered. “I know it seems pointless to you, Dean, all the suffering you and your family has had to go through. But believe me that there is a point to all of it.”

“A point?” Dean asked. “What point could there possibly be for all the bad that’s happened?”

Chuck hesitated for a moment. “I can’t exactly say. I can see everything, Dean. Past, present and future. Your perspective is limited. What makes people so interesting is their thirst for knowledge. They want to know everything; they want to have all the answers. They’re like rats scurrying their way through the maze for a block of cheese and that contentment they receive, even when they just get a small nibble, it’s astounding. You see, Dean, what you don’t see if how limited the human perspective really is. You see suffering as bad, but you don’t realize how crucial it is. For happiness to exist, you need to suffer. Good can’t exist without the bad, Dean.”

“Well thanks, dad, but I don’t think I need this pep talk,” Dean spat back. “I think I’ve already done enough suffering for a life time.”

“You have,” Chuck answered. “But you, Dean, you’re special. Your story, it’s important. A lot of people don’t think beyond themselves enough to think about how their actions affect other people. But you, Dean, you sneeze and the fate of the world hangs in the balance.”

“I didn’t ask for that,” Dean yelled. This was it, his whole life’s purpose flashing in front of him. How was he supposed to live with the fact that he was basically God’s go-to grunt whenever the going got tough? 

“But you want it now,” Chuck said softly. “To be honest, I was planning a different ending for you, Dean. A few years of service here and there and then I wanted you to settle down to a quiet happy life. You’ve earned that much. But you’ve suffered too much and it’s become a part of you now. And you can try to break away from it, you can try to escape from it, but it festers inside of you, doesn’t it? The adrenaline from a hunt is the only thing that lets you know your heart is still beating. If you’re not suffering, you’re doing something wrong. Anything you have worth having is just going to slip through your fingers, just like everything else you care about, so it’s not worth holding onto. Any of this sound familiar?”

“You son of a bitch-“ Dean took a step forward with his right foot as if he was about to take a swing. 

“Are you really going to punch me?” Chuck asked defiantly, staring Dean right in the eyes. 

Dean dragged his left foot forward up to meet his right and then sighed, shoulders slumped, as if he was resigning, until he suddenly spun around and punched Chuck across the face. 

“Oww!” Chuck yelled, clutching his cheek where Dean had hit him, and for a moment Dean looked momentarily startled. “You just hit me! You can’t do that, I’m God!”

Dean stretched out his fingers. “Looks like I just punched the Big Man himself,” Dean mused out loud. “Are you going to smite me or something?”

Chuck lowered his hands and stared at Dean in disbelief, blinking a few times as to get control of himself. “No, I uh, I probably deserve that.”

“So what am I doing here anyway, Chuck?” Dean asked. “What is so damn important that you’ve come to me not when the world was ending, but now, right now?”

“Oh, I’ve come to you many times in the past, Dean,” Chuck answered. “I’ve always been there, guiding you and watching out for you. You just don’t know it.” Dean stared at him incredulously. “I work in mysterious ways, remember? This isn’t the first time you and I have one of these little talks. You know when you wake up in the morning with the faint lingering of a dream and you don’t remember what it was about but you feel like you’ve suddenly had an epiphany? Who’s the one responsible for that, huh?”

“Can you just spill already?” Dean demanded. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Oh, it’s not really something I want you to do,” Chuck replied. “I just want to give you something you’ve been waiting for. You’re right, Dean. Every time you get something worth having, it gets ripped away from you. And it isn’t fair, but someone’s got to make those sacrifices. Some people are just supposed to sacrifice, but don’t think they won’t get rewarded for it.”

“So what are you going to give me?” Dean asked sarcastically. “A cookie? Seventy-two virgins?”

“No,” Chuck replied. “I know what you want. Just like your dad left you over and over again when you and Sammy were kids, you want someone to leave you over and over again…and then come home to stay, like your dad never did. You want someone who can leave if they wanted to, but won’t. Yes, I see that blush creeping into your cheeks, Dean. Have someone in mind, don’t you?” 

“I-“ Dean hesitated, his eyes widening. If Chuck really was who he said he was, he knew this about him already. He knew how he felt about Cas, he knew his thoughts about Cas- “Are you in my head?”

“I’m God, Dean,” Chuck said flatly, as if that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “What I want to know is why you feel so damn guilty about it. You’re not hurting anybody. Is it because you’re that scared, Dean? Are you afraid he’s going to go and leave you too? I know he has many times in the past, but I’ve always brought him back for you, Dean.”

“For me?” Dean merely gaped at Chuck, unable to process what Chuck was telling him. If what he was saying was true, it meant that Castiel had kept coming back for…for him? That was Castiel’s only purpose?

“No, no,” Chuck laughed. “People always such have an arrogant way of thinking; I’m not sure exactly how I made you all that way, but whenever you think about something you always think about it in terms of yourself. Castiel is a lot like you. Loyal, hopelessly devoted to an absentee father, a good soldier, always willing to follow orders until he’s, well, not, constantly fighting for what he believes is the greater good, always toeing the line between what’s right and wrong…you both have a lot in common. You’ve both suffered in unimaginable ways. It’s not surprising you two are attracted to each other.”

Dean’s mouth opened and shut again. “Do you realize the gates of Heaven are shut right now? Shut? And you want to sit here and talk about-“ Dean stopped short of saying, “my love life,” but if Chuck really could hear his thoughts, he heard it all the same. 

“That’ll all work itself out,” Chuck said dismissively. “To you it seems like the end of the world. To me, it’s my children playing a little violent game of Keep Out of the Castle in the backyard.” 

“Yeah, well their little ‘game’ is going to get a lot of people killed,” Dean hissed. “Angels and people.”

“You don’t understand, Dean,” Chuck sighed. “I can’t explain that part to you, so don’t worry about that. That will work itself out. I’m beginning to think you don’t even understand my gift to you.”

“No,” Dean shook his head firmly. “I really don’t. Seriously, how can discussing my feelings about Cas possibly be important right now?”

“Haven’t you ever watched a Harry Potter movie?” Chuck asked, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Do you not know how powerful the gift of love is? The ability to give and receive love is the best thing I’ve given you people, next to sex.” Dean raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side in silent agreement. 

“Castiel’s not leaving you,” Chuck continued. “Think about it. He’s human now. If and when the time were to come, do you think he would take his grace back and leave you again?” 

“All of this,” Dean shouted, suddenly angry again. “The apocalypse, the end of the world, Lucifer, closing the gates of Heaven, was just a giant plot device to tell a stupid love story?”

“Chicks go nuts for that sort of thing,” Chuck pointed out. “Look, all I’m saying is, it’s not wrong to live and let live, okay?”

Dean sensed Chuck was trying to hint something to him but wasn’t sure what. “You mean-“ He struggled with his real question, feelings of guilt brimming at the surface for no particular reason. “It’s not, it’s not wrong, to uh-“

“For heaven’s sake, why would it be wrong?” Chuck asked. “I really don’t get what it is with you people, always so concerned about what I think. I’ve been around since the beginning of time, Dean. I have jerked off to some pretty nasty stuff. Once, I even saw a guy-“ Chuck shook his head. “The things that man did with that goat’s mouth, let me tell you-“

“Don’t need to hear it,” Dean said quickly, something Castiel once said to him lingering in the back of his mind. “Look, no offense Chuck, or God, or whoever you’re supposed to be, but I don’t need any counseling on my love life.”

“No you don’t,” Chuck smiled at him. “Everything will play out like it should. I just want to tell you to be open to it at all, that it’s not wrong. I want to take away your feelings of guilt.” Chuck winked at him. “And don’t worry about what Sammy might say. He’s a lot more open than you think.”

“What?” Dean asked, but suddenly he blinked and found himself sitting up in his own bed in the bunker. He tore the pale blue blankets off of his body, hopping out of bed to look at himself in the mirror. He ran his hands over his face, trying to remember his dream. Something Sammy would say…something Sammy would think…Sammy would think about…and just like that, it was gone.

Shrugging off his dream, Dean smelled the sweet aroma of bacon wafting from the kitchen. “I’m starving,” Dean muttered to himself as he wandered down the hallway, emerging into the kitchen in his classic white cotton tee and navy blue boxers. Castiel was standing behind the oven, expertly flipping pancakes on a skillet, exactly how Dean had showed him last week. Castiel was a fast learner. “Well look who’s the early bird,” Dean commented, sitting down at the table.

“I wanted more practice with the oven,” Castiel replied as he turned off the heat to the burner. “I have not yet mastered the microwave.” 

“You’ll get there,” Dean said groggily, stifling a yawn.

“How’d you sleep?” Castiel asked casually, flipping a pancake onto a plate and adding a helping of bacon beside it. 

“Decent,” Dean replied in his usual taciturn manner. Something stirred from somewhere deep inside of him, as if there was something he was supposed to be remembering, but he couldn’t put his finger on it and let it slip from conscious thought as Castiel put a plate in front of him. 

Castiel was practically standing over him as he set the plate down in front of Dean, his arm almost brushing the side of Dean’s face. Dean’s heart jumped for a moment then was still. Usually Cas’ unfamiliarity with personal space made him uncomfortable, although he could never define why and tried his best not to think about it. But today he felt better. His heart didn’t pound in his chest like it usually did, and those weird sensations that bristled under his skin whenever Cas got too close didn’t affect him this time. He just felt…comfortable. Maybe it was because Cas was human now, maybe he wasn’t so afraid of Cas taking off this time or getting hurt. 

And just like that, Castiel withdrew his arm and Dean found himself backing out of his own inner world of introspection. “You okay, Dean? You look tired.”

Castiel grabbed his own plate from the counter and sat down at the table across from Dean, picking up a piece of bacon with his fingers and chewing it thoughtfully. Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes and realized that they were the bluest blue he’d ever seen. The world shifted slightly on its axis, but Cas didn’t seem to notice it. “What are you thinking about?” Cas asked as he poured enough maple syrup over his pancakes to completely drown an entire colony of ants. 

“Oh, uh, you know,” Dean shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, as he looked down at his plate of food. “Hey, uh, Cas, how would you like to learn how to drive the Impala?”

Cas’ eyes widened. He knew how much the Impala meant to Dean. “Sure, I would love to.”

Dean just smiled back at him as he picked up a fork and started to eat his own breakfast, letting a comfortable silent rest between them. 

 

END


End file.
